


understanding

by Wahmenitu



Series: dimension [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Jessica Jones (TV), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Team Red, Team as Family, idk y'all peter parker just makes me sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 08:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20618390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wahmenitu/pseuds/Wahmenitu
Summary: Jefferson Davis hates Spider-Man.  And then, Spider-Man dies.(Set during Into the Spider-Verse.)





	understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Listen y'all. I have not written in years but damn if the Spidey-verse hasn't dragged me back here.
> 
> Not beta'd.

"Dad... do you really hate Spider-Man?"

Aw, honey.

He got it. He really did. Vigilantes were cool. Superpowers were cool. All day on his regular beat he heard the rapid exchanges between groups of friends. Whose powers would you want? No, you can only pick one. Does the Iron Man suit count? Have you ever gotten close to one? One time, Spider-Man caught my school bus! He got it.

But Spider-Man?

Yeah. He hated him.

Every day, his guys were out there, lives on the line and faces open and plastered across the news, and some kid thinks because he can stick to walls he's above the law? Jefferson became a cop to get away from that life, to get his _family_ away from that life and now it was "cool" to break a law here and there. Web-wrapped criminals on the precinct steps meant nothing when the man who'd captured them hid behind a mask.

So yeah, Miles. Yeah, Spider-Man was kind of the bane of his existence. Daredevil, Cage, Jones? Vigilantes were criminals.

Enhanced or mutant abilities did not give you the right to take justice into your own hands. There was a system for a reason.

Sorry, kiddo.

"We interrupt this broadcast for a special report. Sad news tonight: the hero known as Spider-Man, has died--"

And then it was hard to hear. Because his picture was on the screen. Messy blond hair and a cheeky looking smile and- and that was a _kid._

That was a _kid _on the screen, staring back at him. A kid who had been in grad school who had just gotten married who was survived by his aunt and wife and-

Peter Parker was dead, and Jefferson couldn't breathe.

"_Mi amor..._" Rio's hands were on his face, his hand was clamped over his mouth, and his wife tsked softly, shushing him as his arm tightened around her shoulders. This wasn't right. Nothing about this was right. Jefferson Davis hated Spider-Man.

But he mourned Peter Parker with the rest of New York.

Spider-Man died and for one day, New York stopped moving.

The sounds Jefferson had come to associate with his city had ceased.

The back and forth of traffic didn't swell during rush hour, there were no honking horns or hurried conversations. Thousands crowded the streets surrounding the church. Police were stationed up and down the blocks, uneasy with the dozens of masks that stared back at them while Mary Jane Parker spoke.

"My husband, Peter Parker... was an ordinary person..."

He was the first to see them, he was sure. As he cast his eyes up, there were two shadows, and he had to squint against the sun. Two figures, clad in red, their heads bent as Mary Jane addressed the crowd. And Jefferson watched as Deadpool lifted a hand, settling firmly on Daredevil's shoulder. Silent companions in grief. Paying respects to Peter Parker, and everything he had stood for. Everything he had stood against.

And then he started to notice the others.

They bled from the shadows of alleys, or appeared on rooftops. That was Jessica Jones, standing in the crowd. Her expression stony with a pale hand on Luke Cage's shoulder. And that was the billionaire kid, Danny Rand. With his mouth set in a firm line as tears flowed freely down his face.

Even further back, he could see Captain America, flanked on either side by the Winter Soldier and the Falcon, standing stiff and straight and tipping his chin up against the overwhelming helplessness of the crowd. This was a man who had lost soldiers before. Whose entire world had been ripped out from under him and who had landed on his feet.

And here he was, bringing a hand up to press tight against his mouth against the swell of emotion behind his eyes.

The Winter Soldier- _Bucky, he remembers_\- grips Steve's shoulder tight. Sam Wilson leans close, tipping his head to speak lowly in Steve's ear as the Captain nods once.

And there above them, that's Hawkeye and the Black Widow, lounging almost casually on fire escapes that face the church. They sit in silence, with their eyes closed and faces tipped towards the sky, skin warmed in the fading light of the sun. Wordlessly, he watches Natasha Romanov extend a hand, and Clint Barton takes it, holding fast, holding tight.

It's more expression than he's ever seen from them.

At the very back of the crowd, hidden amongst a group of enraptured college students is Tony Stark. Sunglasses on, scarf tugged tight and hiding his chin. Jefferson would never have noticed if he hadn't been looking for him. Iron Man is absolutely unreadable in the fading winter light. Unmoving as Mary Jane Parker stutters to a stop, collects herself, and continues.

And then, he's gone.

As quickly as they had all appeared, as quickly as he had noticed all of them, they disappear.

Steve Rogers turns, covered by Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, and they vanish around a corner. When he glances upwards, the spies are simply gone. No trace of the Black Widow or of Hawkeye ever having been there. He might have convinced himself he imagined them, had he not witnessed the moment of grief between them.

Jessica slaps a hand against Luke's back, muttering something he can't hope to hear from where he's standing but then he's watching as Luke is nodding and is bracing a palm against Danny Rand's back and then they're leaving, melting into the crowd as seamlessly as any New Yorker.

Daredevil and Deadpool linger, long after the crowd has begun to move. Some surge forwards, to leave gifts or tokens or flowers against the stage. Others peel off in groups, or shuffle off on their own. But the two above remain, standing stiff, standing vigilant, and then Jefferson understands. Yes, they are here for Peter. They are here for their friend, grieving. Readjusting their world view. But they are also here for May Parker and Mary Jane. Spider-Man is no longer just a mask on the screen. Peter Parker is dead, but his enemies are not.

Jefferson can name a dozen cops off the top of his head who hated Spider-Man, and he knows there are worse people out there who hated him more. Who knew him only as the menace who threw himself into fights he had no business being in. As a kid who had powers and decided to use them to fight for the little guy. A kid who walked drunk girls home from parties and who helped old ladies cross the streets. As a kid who threw himself in front of a speeding train without regard for himself or his life.

Villains, who now know him as Peter Parker, a 26 year old grad student who had a wife and an aunt and a city to protect.

He wonders if they would have hated Peter Parker, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thnk u for reading pls comment so we can all be sad about Peter Parker 2gether
> 
> wahmenitu.tumblr.com


End file.
